


this way home

by terraperformance



Category: Fallout 4
Genre: Angst and Hurt/Comfort, F/M, Family, Fluff, Other, Parenthood, Reunions
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-09-04
Updated: 2020-09-04
Packaged: 2021-03-06 15:00:50
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,238
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/26290774
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/terraperformance/pseuds/terraperformance
Summary: They say leaving a cap on the gravestone of a friend or relative can bring you good luck. I say it's just a waste of a cap.
Relationships: Deacon/Robert Joseph MacCready/Female Sole Survivor, Robert Joseph MacCready/Female Sole Survivor, background deacon & female ss, background deacon/maccready
Comments: 6
Kudos: 7





	this way home

**Author's Note:**

> i wrote this two years ago but my ao3 looks bare so here it is, it's really not very good but i want to prove to myself that i CAN post things. i have 7 sole survivors, one for each faction and then one per major dlc and one for all the minor dlcs because i have done... that many playthroughs. maybe one day ill write about them all, though only three of them are still active in my mind - this girl not being one of em. rip.

Preston was the first to see Faye when she came back. Familiar figure trudging over the bridge, all backpack and pip boy and vest tied up with a hair band. It'd been a month and a half. 48 days. He put his hand on her back and walked her up the boulevard to where Maccready was sitting with Duncan and Jean. Summers day, blue sky with a few clouds. Warm but not hot. Mac had a grey T-shirt on with sweat marks at the neck and armpits. He'd been chopping wood. 

Mac notices the brim of Preston's hat before he sees Faye, but when he does she smiles at him wearily, all in slow motion, and he finds it hard not to do something strange like bury his head in his hands cos his body goes all shaky. Duncan gets up first - and Mac is surprised he recognised her so quickly, but he yells "Faya!" and jumps at her with so much force Maccready is worried he'll knock her over. She grins down at him before putting her hands under his armpits and hoisting him up, onto her hip. Duncan squeals with glee. Mac thinks his heart might burst.

"Can I get you a drink Faye?" Preston asks. Faye shakes her head to no notice, the minuteman already on his way to Sanctuary's shared pantry. She lets Duncan down wearily, following him to the floor in a haphazard slump; one knee propped up and the other one flat on the ground.

"Hey y'all." Faye starts, nodding up to Jean and Maccready. And then, "Hey bean." with her eyes focusing at Duncan. He stands in front of her, arms outstretched to pat at her hair. 

The young woman begins unbuckling her armour, the leather pockets around her waist, streamlined synth chest piece - matte black and sleek - and the large shoulder guard protecting her left tricep and clavicle. The process is strangely intimate, and it's not long before Jean gets up to help Preston out, leaving Faye alone with Maccready and Duncan.

With his hands restless and his legs bouncing a little, Duncan waits, patiently - knowing that Faye is doing something. By the time she's at her left leg he can't hold it in any more.

"Did you fight any giant deathclaws?" Duncan blurts, slightly garbled.

Faye looks up from where she unties the laces fastening one piece of calf armour. Her lips tilt just slightly upward, eyebrows fairly high on her forehead.

"I didn't fight any, no." She says, careful, deliberate. "Did you want me to?"

Duncan considers the question before nodding his head furiously. "Shaun said his mom killed a queen m y o r lark... my-er-lark. Did you know a queen my-e-lark can kill two deathclaws." The boy sticks up his fingers to illustrate the point, unknowingly swearing at her. Faye can feel Mac tense to say something, before letting it slide. 

Duncan's brown hair is fluffy at the front, Faye resists the urge to touch it. Her hands toy with the fabric of her cargo pants restlessly; the gruelling combat of the last month has taken its toll.

"And then I was doing discovering." Duncan continues, abruptly, "And I asked Shaun what's stronger than a deathclaw as well as the mylark his mum killed. And he said a giant deathclaw! So I said, I bet Faye can kill one." 

Little hands press down on Faye's knees, Duncan using her body as an almost climbing frame. 

"Oh wow, ok. Well I can try and hunt one down to fight for you, that ok dunks?" She puts one hand on his face, chubby little cheeks. He's growing a little slower than an average kid at his age, because the virus made it a lot harder for him to distribute energy properly. His eyes are an almond shape and brown, must be like his mama. Faye thanks Lucy silently for letting her into the boys' lives. Her heart aches with the loss, but she knows now that - in order to honour her memory - Faye must be brave. Never knew the woman but she shaped Mac to be the sweet man he is today. Faye is grateful, to say the least.

She hesitates, almost forgetting what her and Duncan were talking about, but he's happily nattering on so she tunes back into the conversation. Deathclaws and mirelurk queens. Yes.

"-xciting! ...well why don't I make a- map. And we could be like Mr Valentine on a dedetic mystery." Before Faye can say anything the little man speaks again. "Will I ever be as clever as Mr Valentine. Or maybe even Shaun. Did you know Shaun is a synth? It's why he's so smart and strong. I want to be a synth. Can you make me into a synth Faye?"

Maccready huffs a slightly burdened sigh. 

"Duncan we've been over this." He interrupts, his voice tight.

"I wanna go into a synth machine and come out as a synth-" The slightest hint of a whine. Faye hopes he's not referring to the...uh... procreation machine. Synth juice isn't something she'd want any child to have to come across.

Mac widens his eyes, before running a hand through his hair. "No Duncan, what did I say? That's... that's not possible." The shortest glance at Faye, for some kind of indication she'll back him up. Faye nods subtly, though the movement and the reasons behind the movement are massively overwhelmed by the warmth that spreads like a fire in her chest at Maccready just... looking at her. That's the first time they've properly acknowledged each other since she returned. There's something... hot, in his eyes. 

"You know how Dee never ever takes off his glasses?"

Duncan likes Deacon, he seems to think he's really cool, which Maccready hates, but at least Deacon is elusive enough that he can be used as an excuse for everything. "That's like you. And you can't become a synth."

Duncan furrows his brows. It's somehow successful.

Dee totally thinks collards are cool. Dee, unlike papa, brushes his teeth. Dee doesn't try to set up a boxing match between Charlie's mirelurk and Dogmeat.

"But Faye...?" Duncan tries, his voice a little smaller.

"I think it's an interesting idea Duncan but daddy's right, it's not possible. And not all synths are super clever-" Faye doesn't see the way Mac shuffles in his seat when she calls him that. Her attention is on Duncan, she loves him like her own child. He's perfect. Soft and curious and sweet. She gives in to the urge to ruffle his hair, and he shakes his head like a wet cat might, making her laugh before she goes to finish her point "-I'm sure... if you keep conducting experiments and doing Curie's lessons you will be even smarter than Shaun soon." And that's enough to convince the little man; who promptly announces he's going to the toilet, leaving Maccready and Faye alone.

The young woman speaks first. "How'd I do with him?" She doesn't look at Mac but he's glad because the fondness in her voice is a little too much to bear.

He shrugs, squeezes nonchalance into his voice to try and avoid emotion. "Almost aced it! Just the experiments bit. They've been getting kinda out of hand..."

Faye raises her eyebrows high, swivelling toward her friend. "Oh no- is that... ok?"

And her worried expression sends Maccready over the edge. He clears his throat, looking away desperately so that he doesn't cry. Faye gets the point... or at least, a point, focusing her eyes on something far away instead of the merc. The intensity is intimidating. 

"No... no... nothing like that. It's cool. Don't worry."

They sit in silence, stifled by the warm weather and the politics and the responsibility Faye is beginning to take for Duncan even though she has no obligation and no need to. Worry that... something about it is terribly wrong. 

God, Preston and Jean are taking a while with those drinks.

Faye eventually breaks the silence. "Say... how'd you like to go to the stream. It's kinda warm here."

And Mac nods despite the butterflies in his stomach. "Sounds good."

When they both stand, Maccready gestures for Faye to go first, but instead of going anywhere she just looks at him, eyes unreadable. Pity? Hope? Or maybe nothing. And then she hugs him. Her arms curl around his waist, his around her ribs, and one of her hands balling up in his t-shirt, rubbing smooth strokes back and forth; some kind of reassurance, and man, does it work. 

Their bodies slot together perfectly, Mac crumpling into the embrace, not enough that Faye can tell how lonely he's been, but enough that it reads loud and clear - I'm glad you're back. She holds him steadily in return, trying to press herself to him so tightly that maybe they'll stop feeling like different beings. She inhales against his t-shirt, smelling wood and uncleanliness but the soft scent of family, too. Mac buries his face in her curls, soft and bouncy, and for a moment they share the same ideation of timelessness. Something lasting forever. Unapologetic baseline need. The purest form of companionship.

Maccready strolls silently just behind Faye, they weave between houses and duck under bushes, the wood out back is cool and enjoyable in the summertime. That's where they're headed. At some point Faye takes the merc's hand, drawing him fractionally closer. When they reach the stream she crouches down, Mac hesitates and then follows suit.

Where the light catches Faye's right cheekbone her skin glows, murky green irises light up too - clear and focused as always - glimpsing at him, and then crinkling in a smile.

"Oh jeez Mac I missed you so much..." Eyes turn to the dappled water, her hand wandering across the dirt to find his. 

Magnetism, maybe, a plant to the sun.

She starts up again, matching the churning rhythm of Sanctuary's main generator and the flowing water alike. She sounds unsure though, despite herself; her silky accent, her big words. "Like, y'kno, I kept telling myself I didn't. Guess that's how to deal with things sometimes." There's something held back in her voice. "I uh... nearly died. Like a million times."

He exhales harshly at that, reaching a little more desperately for her fingers. She probably doesn't realise how real that is to Mac. All too familiar a sentiment.

"And... um... each-" A pause, her voice missing its familiar assertiveness, "-of those times... I just-" Tears well up in her eyes. A certain terror in loss, missing him and Duncan so badly - never saying goodbye. Faye shivers with fear, deep in her stomach, but she knows she has to tell him.

Long nights, even with Mercy there as moral support or Mason a furious animal fire to keep her warm. 

"Your hair is real nice." Maccready blurts.

Faye laughs, before shaking her head.

"I thought... you might not like it, actually." 

Mac shakes his head, mirroring her gesture without realising it. He's never seen hair like hers, auburn and cascading frizz, the odd coil but mainly a mass of fluffy curls. So much longer than he's ever seen it before.

Unsaid words hang in the air like rain clouds, ready to burst. Maccready doesn't know what it is he needs to say. No coherent thoughts form in his mind, beside the desperation to hold her and never let go.

Faye shifts suddenly, transforming the air around her.

"Wait. Maccready. Robert." 

She turns her body ninety degrees to look her partner straight on. "It has been-" frowns, as she works out what to say. It's cute. "-like... so long. If you ever felt for me like... that, I wouldn't expect you to anymore. And that's the ridiculous thing, because I've- wanted you, an awful long time now..." Her voice is stark serious. "All these times that I... I nearly died, see, and I thought of Duncan like my... like my... little baby. You know?" 

Maccready visibly shifts, suddenly hearing her rather than losing himself amongst all the details he's trying to memorise before she leaves again. 

He thinks, with a hammering in his chest, holy shit what is she saying?

The stream tumbles away quietly, soothing ambience in between intense conversation. 

"And- and you?" Faye's breath comes out in a shallow laugh. "And I was there, waiting for like... my stimpack to stitch up my tummy enough... for my guts to stay- where- where they're meant to. This massive...thing twenty metres away... try'na reload a sticky 10mm and... and... I always thought, damn I just want to kiss him- you... again." She gushes, ends it all with a shake of her head and a sad smile. 

The silence and the space between them quickly becomes deafening. Mac shrugs the hunting rifle from his shoulder - just in case... just in case they start hugging. The woman takes this as an invitation, it seems, because her little frame relaxes in such a way that it looks like a please. A question about how close they can get now.

No, stop, stop. That's called projection. Take it slow.

Maccready isn't quite sure of what she's saying. So he just murmurs, "yeah." Almost too quiet for his partner to hear. 

They stay like this for a minute or two, until, wordlessly, Maccready moves his body closer to the woman and reaches for the hand that rests by her side, bringing it and the one he's already holding into his lap. He leans forward just a little, close enough that they are sharing breath. Never been that good with words, or that considerate - though she's taught him a lot about both those things.

"Yeah-" The young man continues, he sounds a little out of breath and doesn't know why. "Well, I'm glad you're back. Always forget to wash when you aren't bugging me, Duncan's started saying I smell." It's meant to be a joke but there's something... melancholy about it. He doesn't want to have to say or think or feel these things.

Please never leave us again.

A pang of anger, at everything him and Duncan have been through.

Just don't fucking do it.

And Maccready is a little helpless at her hands, he's not well versed in the art of asking for things. He takes or he leaves. She's presenting a dilemma. 

Don't make me say it.

Faye smiles, and Maccready conceals a nervous swallow with a funny growl, which makes her giggle momentarily, sad and happy at the same time, though her face drops quickly to a sentimental kind of expression. Doesn't let it rest, poke the beast until it roars, or something. 

Faye presses her forehead against Maccready's. Her short fingers suddenly stroking down the side of his face, and he closes his eyes. His chest aches.

She asks a question with those articulated British words, like something from a comic, mysterious and intelligent. It's barely a whisper, and she can't tell if he's even listening, but he nods very slightly, eyes still closed. So Faye takes off Maccready's hat gently, placing it to the side. A part of him wonders why, but it gets quickly shushed by the rest of him.

Just be. Just breathe.

Soft heat against his mouth, and then... they are... kissing... just like that. 

Oh.

They've kissed before. A few times, even. But nothing like this. The man reciprocates all of a sudden, back in his body, desperately, and then as gently as he can.

So tender, so caring. Like they both know what they are doing this time, rather than going with a half hearted agenda or some hope of closeness. This time they are kissing because... fuck, Maccready thinks, I love you. 

He didn't think he would ever feel a touch like this again. 

Faye sighs, dizzy from the warmth that's suddenly swarming on the tip of her tongue, bringing her hands up to cup his face. Her thumbs trace the sharp lines of his jaw as she explores him; typical Faye, research and learning. She has soft fingers - a few notable calluses on skin that isn't used to the waste's cruel ways, but mainly velvety smooth. 

God, Maccready wants her so badly his mind has gone fuzzy and numb. He reaches for her waist; pull her closer, take her here. 

Faye holds him by the jaw, angling his head a little and kissing him over and over and over. The man doesn't mind her taking charge; each movement she makes is benign, if a little curious. But ginger, too. 

An accidental slip of teeth makes Mac jolt back in embarrassment but Faye moans, so quiet, at the unexpected texture.

Suddenly the mood takes a little turn, the blatant question of sex hangs low between them, forcing them apart. 

Faye's eyes are hazier than usual, she bites her lip at the frowny expression of her partner - intense and a little focused, what he looks like before taking a shot.

"Is- are you...? If we start I- I dunno if I'm gonna be able to stop." He wishes he didn't sound like such a dork.

Feels like being a kid, in so many ways. But maybe that's ok. Faye's face drops, not to sadness, just back to earth.

"Oh. Gosh... Yeah... I don't know-"

Maccready tries to reassure, cracking that classic smirk, but he looks... different, so... sweet; and Faye knows now she's fallen completely and madly head over heels in love.

She thinks about how handsome he is, how proud and desiring of him. It's so heady and overwhelming she gets an urge to run away. 

"You wanna just make out like kids in the woods...?" Mac teases. His smile is unabashedly crooked, and undeniably stunning. "Sounds like something Piper might indulge in writing in her spare time... a... teen romance novel."

Faye can't quite think straight. Love is a drug. 

One eyebrow raised, she swallows the lump in her throat before launching herself into the merc's lap. He yelps and she squeals.

"Don't be rude to Pipe-" She starts, trying to shove her legs around his waist. 

Maccready catches on quickly, wrapping her up in a sort-of cuddle and rolling them so that she's pinned underneath him.

He's thinking with his dick, can't stop the words coming out of his mouth. "Is this some kind of erotic wrestling? I'm into it-" He does a shit eating grin which earns him her fingers squeezing into the flesh just above his left elbow. The twinge it causes makes him buckle. How the fuck did she do that? And why did it turn him on so much?

Faye pushes him up just enough to escape the hold, straddles his lap. Whoops, there's a boner there she's probably noticing. She grinds down on him, probably as some kind of combat technique, but Maccready groans from somewhere in his throat. Fuck, this is weirdly frustrating.

"Fuck you Maccready. You make my..." Messy jab to the ribs, and he shoves her, giggling. "Hey- mean- you make m-" This time when Mac gets the upper hand he's not letting go. Tackles her, propped up on his elbows, she pants underneath him, starts giggling again and he joins in. Damnit. That's too sweet. Later, later. 

They end up lying there for a while, holding hands, on the bank of the stream. And Christ, Maccready has never felt this happy ever. And Lord, Faye feels... loved.


End file.
